


Understanding is Half the Battle

by FrankenPup



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 02:11:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankenPup/pseuds/FrankenPup
Summary: Stan always thought his Uncle Jimbo was weird. He drank to much, he was loud, obnoxious and always took two plates of leftovers. He was fat, old and still had no girlfriend. And his only real friend was his one armed buddy, Ned. Yet, Stanley never once thought his hunting crazy Uncle was gay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There are for sure some spelling mistake! But no warnings despite some language.

Stan never thought his Uncle Jimbo was gay.

Jimbo went on elaborate hunting trips, lived off the land, and he even owned a gun shop. He fought in Vietnam for Christ's sake. How could he be gay? Every television show depicted a gay man flamboyant and highly fashionable, their voice was higher, and they always seemed to mention how much they loved men.

But Jimbo wore camo, a brimmed hunters cap and heavy hiking boots. Not a bright pink scarf and a designer jacket.

Jimbo was overweight, he had big ears and a obnoxiously loud voice. The exact opposite of what he came to know as a gay man. Compared to big gay AL at least, or even Mr. Slave who wore nothing but tight leather chaps.

He was not what Stanley saw on TV.

Then, one day, Craig and Tweek were holding hands.

They were both boys.

Holding hands.

Like then gay men on TV.

But they didn't dress like the people on TV, nor talk in a higher pitch. Craig's nasally voice was annoying and Tweek’s twitching was irritating. But they didn't act; gay.

He recalls his grandpa blubbering about gay men taking down their society. It didn't make much sense at the time, grandpa always babbled on about nonsense. He got used to it, becoming a master at the ‘pretending to listen face,’ along with deceivingly interested ‘Uh huhs’.

Something always felt different about Jimbo, he didn't necessarily act like anyone else in the group of people Stan was forced to call family. He didn't have many features that resembled Randy’s, they didn't even have the same hair color. The only person he resembled was grandma, they both had full, rounded cheeks and a smile that could lighten up even the darkest room.

Stan questioned his mother about Jimbo's place in the family tree one day for a school project. It only made it complicated when he discovered that Jimbo was Randy's half brother. Different fathers, but the same mother. He was still sore about getting a B after spending so much time on it. He never did manage to find a photo of Grandpa Kern.

 

His uncle certainly was an experience all his own, he was a redneck at times, he hunted not just for food, but also for fun. He knew how to build a table out of a tree stump and how to pluck the feathers off a chicken in 60 seconds flat. It wasn't until he started growing up did he notice how different Jimbo was.

Stan remembers little things whenever Jimbo would pay a visit. He would drive up in his loud truck, park nearly on the front lawn and beat on the door with his free hand. Whilst the other held something far less appealing to show the Marsh family. This happened about every month or so. His uncle would stop by to chat, or bring them fresh eggs from his chicken coop.

Other times, it was something very unpleasant.

“Hey there kiddos! Uncle Jimbo brought you something, a genuine coonskin cap! Caught the little buggers a few days ago, Ya’ll shoulda seen it! They nearly got at the chicken coop before I shot him right between the eyes.” Jimbo retold his tale proudly, mimicking how he held his gun and fired on the poor innocent creature. His chin was held higher than normal, proud of his accomplishment.

“I brought Shelly one too, but I stuck a bow on it. Girls like bows right?” Jimbo seemed suddenly uncertain about his quick decision. Nervously adjusting the red ribbon tied loosely at the base of the tail.

Little Stan gawked at the animal skin that dropped into his arms. Frozen with fear, he felt his insides churn at the sight of blood stains on inner rim. He finally got the courage to drop the dead animal hide and run to his mother, crying like a baby.

Shelly had made a face at her own, a dirty looking red ribbon “Thanks Uncle Jimbo.” forcing a smile that gleamed with her braces.

“Stanley?! What's the matter? Don't you like your, uh present?” though Sharon wasn't keen on keeping such a thing in their house, it was the thought that counts.

“Aw Shoot, maybe I should just stuff it next time?”

At his 5th birthday, Jimbo arrived late, smiling apologetically as he came through the door while the presents were being opened. He was struggling to carry a wide reticulated present in his arms as he kicked the door shut behind him.

“Sorry I'm late, had to drop Ned off back home. He ain't feeling to good.”

That birthday, he tore through his presents, Kyle and Cartman ‘ooing’ at his new pair of shoes and the new action figure he asked for.

“Thanks mom! Thanks dad!.”

“Thanks Aunt Beth!”

Stan was sure to loudly declare his thanks to ensure his mother didn't have a hissy fit later on.

Then he got to the biggest present he had ever seen, Jimbo’s. His face was beaming. He tore away the newspaper wrapping. Maybe it was that remote control toy car he had been begging his mom for? Kyle aided him in ripping away the paper only to be a bit confused when it was a dark blue, wooden box. He noticed a latch and quick flipped it open only to stare I into the cedar scented box in confusion

“Did they forget to put your present in it?” he heard Kyle ask.

“Weak, it’s just a box.” Cartman crossed his arms.

“Hey mom, where's the-

Randy was at his side in an instant, laughing off Kyle’s unknowingly rude comment. “Oh, hey! Check it out! It's a toy box!” his voice went up an octave, like it normally does when he's not trying to be an asshole.

Stan watched his dad open the lid and admire the handy work. What was the point of a toy box if your didn't get a toy to put in it?

Jimbo suddenly appeared, kneeling beside him and running a heavy hand over his handy work. “What do you think Stan? We made that just for you! We even engraved your name on the top.” Giving a toothy smile as he gave the polished wood a pat “Figured with all this awesome stuff yer gettin’ your gonna need some place to put it all.”

“Tell Uncle Jimbo thank you Stanley. That was very nice of him.” Sharon chimed in.

Stan stared at the box, it's deep blue color and smooth edges was not something he asked for his his fifth birthday. Let alone wanted. He wanted the new chinpokomon, or that really cool skateboard he saw at the mall.

But his father nudged him, and he pouted.

”Thanks Uncle Jimbo.”

Jimbo looked a bit sheepish, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Glad you like it Stanley, I'll be sure to let Ned know. He spent a whole lotta time painting this bad boy! He wanted it to be perfect!”

That was the first time he recalled hearing the name Ned.

When he was 6, His mom and dad brought them up to his uncle's cabin for New Years. Stan quickly learned it was the worst place to visit. You could get no phone reception, it was literally in the middle of nowhere, they didn't have indoor plumbing and they heated the house with a fireplace that only seemed to heat one room. Half of the hardwood floor was torn up in the kitchen, and creepy taxidermy animals hung from the walls and shelves. He would much rather stay with Kenny for a week than be here. And what was stranger, was there a man walking about he never saw before, but Jimbo called him Ned.

A lanky, short man was by Jimbo’s side. Shaggy faded brown hair, a lazy mustache and goatee along with a pair of circular shaded sunglasses hid his eyes. A bandana tied around his head made him look like a ninja.

The strangest part was the fact that his right arm was missing.

Stan knew staring was rude, his mother caught him several times that night staring at the missing limb and smacked his arm in a scolding. But he couldn't help it. He had never seen anyone without an arm before. Even compared to Jimbo, the man was the definition of weird.

Stanley watched him from the comfort of the living room. Ned seemed right at home, he knew where everything was, pointed to drawers when his mom would ask about silverware. He was even cutting onions with his only arm. 

Jimbo was out back grilling, he could barely see that bright orange hat from beyond the sliding glass door that led to the back porch. He wasn't wearing his normal hunter's orange shirt and green vest. More casual, just a button up flannel with old jeans. With the screen door open Jimbo was talking, flipping burgers every once in awhile. He would set up his questions or phrases for his friend to respond, and he would only get a nod or a shake of his head as a reply.

A swift punch to his arm made him shout, Stan's head snapped around and glared at his sister “Stop staring, you turd.”

He hissed and rubbed the tender spot “I wasn't!”

She immediately bared her teeth, her braces gleaming like a bear trap and he shrunk in his seat. “That's what I thought you idiot.” she went back to flipping through the channels on the old TV just above the fireplace.

Stan quickly hopped off the couch to avoid any further pummeling and went to the kitchen. He peeked out the sliding glass door to see Jimbo and his dad had moved, drinking beer and sitting around a large bon fire they set up earlier that evening. He nearly jumped when the door slid open, Ned stepped away as if to let him pass. When he only stared, the older man gave a weird awkward twitch of his lips. Stepping outside toward the fire casting a bright orange glow to it’s occupants. Uncle Jimbo's voice boomed even from beyond the glass as Ned approached and patted a nearby lawn chair.

Sharon was humming to herself as she put several different items in a bowl. “Are you sure you're not tired Stanley?”

Stan looked at her and resisted the urge to yawn. It was only past ten, hours past his bedtime. He gave her a broad grin, trying to pretend he didn't want to go home and just wait until next year to watch the ball drop. “No way! I wanna stay up and watch the ball drop just like you and dad do.“

She gave a suspicious look, not believing him for a minute. But played along, he wouldn't make it past eleven. “Alright, if you can stay awake.” she smiled, handing him a marshmellows, a bar of chocolate and a box of graham crackers. “Randy and Jimbo are cooking up some hot dogs out there on the fire, why don't you and Shelly go make some s'mores?”

His face quickly brightened “Really? Thanks mom!” Shelly tsked, from the living room, complaining about not being hungry. But he didn't care, s'mores were like Jesus himself shined down upon him and granted him everlasting life.

He was out in the nippy Colorado air before anyone could tell him he was dreaming. Stan was careful not to crush any of his precious cargo as he approached the roaring fire and the voices of his dad and Uncle Jimbo. The flames colored them all in a fiery orange that casted their shadows to create terrifying figures that danced in the dim light.

Jimbo was the first to notice him, busy eating one of the hot dogs they had been roasting. “Hey there kiddo!” greeting cheerfully. Ned was at his side, beer in his only hand and face blank as a slate. But upon hearing Jimbo's greeting, he removed the cigarette from his lips and stomped it into the ground. “Mom said I could make s'mores!” 

“Smores? Aw hell, why didn't I think a that?” the larger man smacked his forehead like he forgot the oven was on.

Randy helped Stan into a folding chair, and they were roasting up marshmallows in no time. Stan kicked his feet excitedly, ignoring the chatter of his Uncle while he munched on his dessert in delight. Chocolate was smeared onto his clothes and cheeks, but that could be cleaned later.

Jimbo was going on about a recent bear sighting, he would turn to Ned and ask a question like he had forgotten the answers himself. Ned would nod most of the time, but remain silent. It was like Jimbo was trying to include him in the conversation.

He drowned out the rest of the conversation when his dad brought up football.

He nearly choked when Randy got up to get some more beer, and Jimbo left to grab some more firewood from a nearby shed. He didn't want to be alone with his Uncle’s weird friend. Jimbo was only 20 feet away, but something inside his stomach tightened. He had yet to hear this man speak, and it unnerved him, being alone with someone he was starting to suspect was a cyborg.

But stan busied himself with his dessert, keeping his head down. It's not like there was a TV to distract himself with, or even a nearby rock to try and hit his dad with. His eyes managed to travel back to Ned.

Ned was staring into the the roaring bonfire, stirring the embers with a stick as the logs burned and shifted in the ashes. He looked so strange, yet familiar at the same time. He's seen Jesus, and all the other weird things that go on in south park, yet he couldn't figure out who this man was. Obviously Jimbo's friend. 

Ned noticed his staring, and flexed his hand in a little wave. But still, no words flowed from his lips.

“Who are you?”

The little outburst seemed to stun the one armed man, looking like a lost puppy as he searched everywhere except Stan’s face. His lips twitched again, in a nervous gesture. He waved his hand and pointed to his throat. Dog tags hung from his neck, but Stan didn't bother to inspect them any closer.

Stan’s face once again scrunched up, but more from anger. Unable to understand the problem or why Ned wasn't answering him. “Are you a robot?”

Ned was a little uneasy, unsure how to communicate without Jimbo to speak for him. Thankfully, Jimbo returned looking winded and pink in the face. “We gotta fix that crooked door, nearly smacked my head in trying to get the damn firewood out.” He plopped down in his seat, rubbing the sore spot beneath his hat when he noticed Ned’s unease. “What? Cat got your tongue?” the fatter man laughed hard at his own joke but muffled his laughter when Ned made a disapproving noise “Aw, ya know I'm just teasing.” clapping a hand on Ned's shoulder soothingly.

Ned smacked Jimbo's large hand and pointed at Stan, his lips were moving but no words came out.

After some gestures and lots of blinking on Jimbo's part, his uncle seemed to grasp what the issue was. “Oh! Well slap my ass and call me Sally! I don't think you were ever properly introduced yet Stanley. This is Ned. He's a buddy of mine that I met back in ‘Nam.” Jimbo's face seemed to soften, grinning brightly. “I don't think you remember him much, we would come visit on your birthday when you were real little, he ain't been able to make it to much these last few years. Been sick and stuff right around the holidays.” 

Stan didn't seem satisfied with the response, still shifting in his seat, s'more long forgotten now sat in the wet grass. Jimbo went on, not removing his arm from Ned's seat rest.

“Yeah, poor guy smoked to much and had to get his trachea removed. Can't speak a word anymore. Shame too, One helluva singer before he lost his voice. You hear that boy? Don’t smoke or you’ll end up like poor Ned here!” The larger man teasingly shook Ned's shoulder, his face scrunched up in a disapproving frown and threatened to get up. Stanley watched his uncle falter and laugh, going on about how he was just trying to scare his nephew away from drugs.

That's how he learned Ned couldn’t talk.

Something clicked for Stan that night, He did recall seeing Ned around during family gatherings, but being so young he must have just set his presence aside in favor of food, cake, or presents.

After that, Ned started coming around more and more.

The two were nearly inseparable, wherever Jimbo went, Ned would be somewhere nearby, and more often than not, right by his side.

He started coming to every occasion, birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, the Fourth of July, any time his extended family came to visit.

When he was 7, Christmas was at the Marsh household. Jimbo and Ned were there, spending their time in the living room with Randy watching TV. They finally finished dinner, so it was time to open presents. At least that's what Stan had been waiting for, he was eyeing a brightly packaged one, the exact shape of a possible lego set he asked his dad for.

“Stan, why don't you pass out the presents this year?” Sharon came from the kitchen, offering glasses of wine to the adults. No one had to tell an eager boy twice, he quickly read the name tags.

Five for himself, five for Shelly, his mom and dad got a few. Jimbo had three, his aunts and other uncles all got the same amount. Even Grandpa got a few.

Ned was next, Stan handed the man one small present, unable to read his expression, but the other man nodded his head. He felt a mixed set of emotions, one being nervousness, Ned’s expression was blank as always but it didn't seem to bother Jimbo. The other man was talking away, nudging his smaller friend and showing off his new winter hat the Marshes got for him.

Stan destroyed his brightly packaged gifts in no time, admiring them only for a moment before tearing open the next to find out what he managed to score this year. What he didn't want was the last present he knew was from Uncle Jimbo and Ned. Newspaper seemed to be a running gag, if you can call it one.

Stan peeled open the wrapping and found himself disappointed for the umpteenth year in a row. A wooden dog fell out of the wrapping. Smooth to the touch but still rigged in appearance. It looked like sparky, who sniffed at it excitedly. “You like it kiddo? I whittled that thing from nothing but a tree stump I pulled outta the yard. Ned painted it, just like your toy box. He's damn good at it aint he?”

Stan examined it only for a moment, pouting again and made a half hearted attempt at answering his anticipating uncle. He set it aside, noticing Shelly got one as well.

Jimbo admired a brand new switchblade, Courtesy of Ned himself. “Aw shucks buddie! You always know what I want before I do.” Jimbo was smiling again, and Stanley wasn't sure he had really seen Jimbo smile so much. Yeah sure he was a goofy overweight weirdo, but he never smiled like that. Ned’s lips twitched, patting the gift the Marsh family got him. A pair of sunglasses.

Though everyone had opened their gifts and thanked properly. Stan felt sorry for Ned. Sunglasses were probably the lamest gift to give someone. He looked around the room, even Grandpa Marvin got a nice heated blanket. Ned seemed to get only a single present, and a sucky one at that.

Now that he thought about it, this isn't the first time Ned has shown up to Christmas if Jimbo had been telling the truth that night. He had been around since he was just a baby, everyone must have thought he wasn't coming again this year. After All, He wasn't an uninvited guest.

After everyone was done, most of the adults disbursed back to the kitchen for refills. Cleaning up after themselves and laughing about their gag gifts as they went.

Jimbo got Ned’s attention, dipping into a pocket on his vest to pull out a small, newspaper wrapped present. “Here ya go buddy, I was gonna wait till we got home to give it to you. But I can't wait anymore! Can't let you think I didn't getcha anything.”

A strange look crossed over Ned’s face as he took hold of the small box. Stanley watched closely, suddenly more curious about the small black box than his nerf gun.

The smaller man quickly pulled at the string holding the box together, it must have been wrapped that way so Ned could open it easier. But when the lid was removed, Ned's jaw drop open, and froze. Stan was afraid his gears froze up.

“Well come on! It ain't gonna bite, try it out!.”

Ned's hand looked like it was shaking as he held up another smooth black box. There was a small button in the center and a speaker on one end. It almost looked like his dad's electric razor.

“What's that?” Stan found himself asking, his new toy forgotten. 

Jimbo's grin only seemed to broaden. “It's a new voice box!”

Ned pressed a button and held the small device up to his throat. But he looked like he was struggling to find the proper words to express himself. “Mmn- Jimbo.”

Stanley knew his suspicions were true. Ned had to be a robot. His new voice only proved it. But the child watched the two, feeling a weird sense of happiness.

The look on Ned's face was priceless, he looked shocked at hearing his own words fall from his lips. “Ha! Hot damn it's good to hear you talkin’ again.” goosebumps appeared on his uncle's arms. “Come on now, say somethin’ else!”

The button was pushed several times before Ned spoke again “Mn- how did you pay for this?”

Jimbo pursed his lips, brows furrowed. Obviously upset with the choice of words. Maybe he wanted to hear something more worthwhile? But even that couldn't wipe off the smile on his face “I know we ain't had the money to get you anything fancy, but I sold a few of my old guns to get you a voice box. It's the best I could do till I get some more cash.”

Ned's hand came over to squeeze Jimbo’s arm, as if preventing himself from doing anything else. Stanley watched as his lips opened and closed, forgetting he had to press the device to his throat to speak. He looked ready to shake apart. “Mmn- but you love your guns-.” 

Jimbo seemed to struggle too, but patted Ned’s shoulder in return. “Don't worry about it Neddie, I ain't gonna miss them much. I'd rather be able to hear you yelling at me to do the dishes than keep draggin’ me by my collar and sticking my face in old spaghetti.” Jimbo laugh was contagious, deep and inviting like any old jolly man could produce.

Something happened that Stanley wasn't expecting, sure he had seen Ned smile before, but it was faint, nearly invisible if you had not been watching. Ned’s lips actually parted, unable to hold back his toothy smile and it only got bigger the more Jimbo laughed. Jimbo through an arm around the smaller man and smooshed him to his side. “Mn- you big dummy.”

The two stayed like for a moment, and Ned was the first to notice Stanley's staring and quickly righted himself, unwilling to let go of his gift. Jimbo gave a sheepish smile, and spoke.

“So Stanley, did you like your present? It took about, how long Ned? A week? Can't tell you how many splinters I had to pull outta my hands.” He took note of Jimbo's arm now resting on the back of the couch around the smaller man.

Stan held up the carved dog, patting it awkwardly. “Well-.” Shelly elbowed him, hard enough to nearly knock him over. “Ow!!”

“Hey, come on now.” Jimbo awkwardly tried to deter the two from fighting. But Stan whipped around “What the hell!!”

“Don't be a turd. You know what you were gonna say.” she snapped. Going back to her own presents. 

“No, I don't! Why do you always say that!” 

“Kids-.”

“Shut up before you get me in trouble. If that happens I'll wipe the floor with your stupid face!”

Stan faltered slightly, watching her clamp her jaws threateningly. But he shook, angry tears forming. “Stop hitting me!”

“Make me you turd!”

Stan yelled and threw that stupid wooden carving at his sister, narrowly missing her head by inches. The gift smashed into the wall, and split the sculpture in half. 

“I'll kill you you stupid shit!”

Shelly shoved Stanley down and punched him over and over. Dozens of voices echoed in Stanley’s head as he struggled to get his sister off of him and protect his face from the unrelenting barrage of fists.

The weight was gone in an instant, Randy scooped the struggling Shelly up and away from Stan while his mother screamed at the two.

Concern broke out amongst the adults, unsure what to do or say as the Marshes were scolded for fighting on Christmas. Most remained silent, Grandpa Marsh was talking but no one was paying attention with the kids still trying to get at each other's throats.

Jimbo tried to break the tension with a nervous laugh. “Well you know what they say, duct tape can fix anything.” though Stan was sure it was a joke, he seethed. Nursing his swollen eye.

“Ugh! I don't care about your stupid present! Why do you have to be so weird?!”

Jimbo looked taken aback, not expecting such a violent response to a half hearted joke. He gaped like a fish, and suddenly his already pinkend face burned from embarrassment. His lips opened and closed a few times before staying silent. 

Ned of all people, spoke up. “Mn- It was just a joke.”

“Stanley Marsh!” Sharon hissed, smacking his hand “That's it young man! I'm tired of your attitude, you march right up to your room and don't you dare come down until I say so!!” 

He sniffed, fighting back hot tears while he stomped up the stairs and slammed his door not once, but twice for good measure. The boy forced his face into the pillow and tried to quiet his sniffles while his eye throbbed in pain. It wasn't until moments later he realized he could hear his family downstairs.

“Don't worry about it Jimbo, Stanley's just upset.”

“He likes it, really.”

Stan struggled to keep listening. “Aw, It's alright. I guess it's not what he was expecting.”

“That’s no excuse to act like such a spoiled brat!”

“There ain’t no reason to give him a hard time, I shoulda just gotten him that toy car like you said. But I blew every penny I had getting Ned a voice box this year.”

Jimbo was defending him for treating him like trash.

Grandpa is talking now, the wheezy breaths only confirmed his suspicions. “Billy knows exactly what he's talking about. He can spot a weirdo from a mile away.”

“Dad, what the heck, don't be rude.”

“Don't raise your voice at me young man! Just because he's part of this family doesn't mean I have to treat him like one.” 

The atmosphere shifted dramatically even for someone who wasn't present in the room to feel the tension.

Ned's new voice broke in, even with the monotone, he could tell something was urgent “Mmn - we should go.”

“Couple a faggots got no business hanging around children. Gonna rub your sickness all over them.”

“DAD!”

Faggot was a word he heard only once before. Mr. Garrison repeated it like a mantra sometimes. But Stan never really cared to find out what it means.

Heavy footsteps thumped below, undoubtedly Jimbo’s. Quieter ones trailed behind, it must have been Ned. The door opened, closed, and like a gun misfired, all hell broke loose. Dad was yelling, mom too. He could hear the dog barking and Aunt Flo trying to make peace.

But he didn't hear Jimbo, or Ned's new voice defending themselves from the insult.

“What's the matter with you?!

He missed what grandpa replied from the harsh hacking.

“I don't care what generation you grew up in. You don't treat family like that! What if mom was here to hear you say that?”

“Don't tell me you both don't like that fat ass around Billy! He's more of a bad influence than that teacher of his!”

His dad must have been pacing, the floorboards creaked over and over.

“He is not that bad! But that's not the point!”

He felt a pang of heavy regret for yelling something so childishly in his uncle's face. Yet his grandpa didn't seem to be concerned about anything he just said.

His parents voices became softer, like they moved into another room.

“What was Stan thinking?”

“He's only a little kid, he doesn't know words can hurt.”

“That boy deserves a whooping. Just wait till everyone's gone.”

Stan curled up tight in fear of his punishment but strained to hear their conversation.

“You know how Jimbo feels about the kids. And the rest of the family for that matter. He just wants to be part of it. I mean, it's not like he has anyone else to turn too.”

“What am I supposed to do Sharon?! I can't make Stan hang out with his uncle.”

Bright lights caught Stan's attention, running over to his window to watch Jimbo and Ned still in the driveway. The larger man appeared to be dragging his feet, Stan felt guilt rising in his chest watching his uncle act like a kicked puppy. It was such a childish thing to call his uncle who was obviously trying to do his best. Even after spending every penny he had to make someone else happy.

He couldn't hear the exchange of words but he was sure Ned was putting his new voice box to good use. The hand on Jimbo's shoulder was comforting, and the two were close. Their cold breath mingling together. Whatever Ned said had Jimbo cocking a sad smile.

“Who cares, Billy had something right. Jimbo's a weirdo, couple of faggots don't need to be round kids.”

“Dad!! Stop calling him that.”

“The man lives up in the mountains with no girlfriend, and the only person keeping him company all these years is that one armed freak. I've seen Brokeback Mountain!”

“That's just a movie, I mean, I lived with my friends for years before I met Sharon.”

“When's the last time you saw that fatty anywhere near a woman??”

Silence fell between everyone. Stan struggled to hear, the ringing in his ears starting to give him a headache.

“....That doesn't mean anything. I’m sure he's dated someone.”

“Doesn't matter, he’s lived with that one armed record player for years. Who knows what they do up there on their own.”

“That's it. Dad, stop being such a dick. Jesus he's your son-”

“Step son.” Marvin seemed to spit. “His real father probably butt fucked him and made him gay. He’s probably sucking dick as we speak.”

“DAD!”

“MARVIN!!”

Thumps and other loud clattering came from below, it was impossible to tell what was going on. After what felt like ages, his mother spoke again.

“Randy, he’s right.”

“What?!”

“I didn't want to agree with your father and encourage him, but he might be right.” Sharon hesitated, “Jimbo and Ned might be together.”

“WHAT?!”

“Oh hush! Hasn't he ever said anything? I mean it's obvious isn’t it?”

“Obviously not!”

“Stop yelling for god's sake, listen. There's no real reason to even discuss it. If they are together, well, ok. If not, fine. Jimbo wants to be part of the family, and Ned does too. At least I think he does. Let’s just pretend we don't know, maybe there is a reason they haven't told us? If they even are together.”

Stanley never heard whatever his mom and dad discussed after that. His Aunt Flo came to kiss him goodbye, and after, that the house went silent.

Later that night he was scolded for what felt like hours, Shelly got most of the blame. Randy was sure to explain that he really hurt Jimbo's feelings.

Ever since the incident, they only saw Jimbo and Ned on Christmas. Even then, sometimes he wouldn't show up, but presents always managed to be under the tree for the Marshes. New toys and gadgets, still wrapped in old newspaper. No wood carvings, or coonskin caps. Just regular store bought toys. 

He was 10 now.

He still occasionally sees the two men in the window of their gun shop, or spot them on the sidewalk on their way to school.

He buried his guilt, questions, and feelings into the recesses of his mind long ago. He grew to just pretend it never happened. 

But Craig and Tweek brought up those confused feelings again. Two guys, acting like how boys and girls were supposed to act. He never saw Jimbo or Ned holding hands or kissing, but other things pointed to the obvious.

“Dad, does faggot mean gay?”

“Stanley don't say that word. Did grandpa teach you that?”

“He called Uncle Jimbo that.”

Randy sloshed the beer in his hand, distracting himself from the question. 

“Why doesn't Uncle Jimbo come around anymore? Is it because he hates me?”

“Sharon!” Randy shouted, desperate for another voice in the matter. “No, Stanley he doesn't hate you, or Shelly. In fact he loves you guys.” he seemed disgusted with his own choice of words, but ignored it.

“Then why doesn't he come around anymore? Is it because he's a faggot?”

His mother appeared in the doorway. “Stanley Marsh! Don't make me clean your mouth out with soap, again.”

“What?! I just asked a question! Grandpa called Jimbo a faggot, does it mean the same thing as gay?”

His parents looked at one another, both waiting to see what the other would say. “Sweet heart, this isn't something you should worry about.”

“Why?! Uncle Jimbo and Ned don’t come around anymore, I see them all the time at the gun shop and I just don't understand.” his rant kept going, sniffling. “Are they not allowed to be here anymore?”

“No, no, of course not. They can come here whenever they want. They just choose not to sweetie.”

“But why? Is it cause they like each other? I saw Craig and Tweek holding hands and Cartman said they were gay.” the emphasis on the word gay made it taste strange on his tongue. “But they are still in school and we still hang out at the playground.”

“Oh, Stanley.” His mother whispered, setting down her dish rag to place her hands on her sons cheeks. 

“I just don't get it! They are still my friends right? They don't act any different.” Stan wiggled in his mother hold. “Even Cartman isn't dissing on them- so why don't Jimbo and Ned come around? Do you hate them or something? Grandpa said they were gay, so why don't they come around like they aren't welcome? They are still Uncle Jimbo and Uncle Ned right?”

He never got a definite answer. His mother hushed him and tried to explain everything was alright, and she would call them later to talk. But the issue was swept under the rug, like it always was.

There was only one way to get his answer.

The next day, Stan skipped school. He pretended to be sick, which wasn’t hard when you had a thermometer and a lamp at your disposal. As soon as his dad left for work and Sharon went for groceries, he left. Sneaking past his sister’s room, who was supposed to be babysitting.

He knew exactly how to get to Jimbo's cabin, it wasn't the first time he walked along the beaten dirt path. His friends often hiked up here to play and gather materials for a club house. Though, he quickly regretted not wearing his extra coat for the hike as the wind picked up.

After nearly an hour of walking, the cabin came into view. It looked different than the last time he saw it. It looked more, complete. Smoke wafted from the chimney as snow started to fall from the sky in thick snowflakes. The porch had been polished, the windows were clean and painted, he heard chickens clucking and spotted a small green house just past the firewood shed. The old snow crunched under his boots as he finally hit the old dirt driveway.

He marched up the steps and knocked on the door, and it was at that moment he realized exactly what he was doing. Stan walked all the way to his possibly gay uncle's home, out in the cold with nothing but his regular jacket, hat and gloves to keep him warm, he skipped school and didn't tell his family where he was going.

His mom was going to kill him.

Stan heard a TV, some shuffling and heavy footsteps. “Who is it?”

It was Jimbo. Stan licked his suddenly dry lips “S-stan! Your nephew.”

It wasn't moments later that several latching noises clinked against the cedar, and the door cracked open. It felt like years since he saw his uncle properly. He looked older without his signature hunters cap. Jimbo was only wearing thick sleep pants and a dirty tank top that didn't quite cover his belly.

“Mnn- who is it?”

Stan gave an awkward wave hearing Ned’s muffled reply from inside, unsure what to say. 

Why did he march all the way out here again? 

But that seemed to be the least of Jimbo's problems as the door was now fully open, he could see the mismatching socks adoring his uncle's feet. He seemed confused, glancing to the tree line for another vehicle “Where's your mom and dad?”

“I walked here.”

He made a face at that, but the snow collecting on Stanley’s clothes were a dead give away. The shaking of his shoulders and his pale face and bright red cheeks and nose furthered his accusation. The older man’s eyes went wide “What the hell are you thinking boy? Get your ass in here.” he herded Stan inside, the boy noticed Ned sitting on the couch, alarmed by the sudden new arrival.

“Hey Ned can you grab the heated blanket?” Jimbo seemed to be on autopilot, nearly tripping over the rug as he grabbed for the quilts on the couch. Ned was gone in an instant.

Stan simply watched, doing as he was told, removing his coat, gloves, socks and hat, anything he could afford to remove and place it next to the fireplace. In no time he was seated on the couch, wrapped in a blanket in front of a roaring fire with a mug of steaming hot chocolate in hand. 

Jimbo's head was in his hands, taking a deep breath like he just ran a marathon. “You gettin’ warm, kiddo?”

Stan slipped on his hot chocolate and nodded, The old cabin looked different, inside and out. There was a plasma TV now mounted over the fireplace, a bear skin rug was being warmed by the fire, and the old couch had been replaced by a nicer one.

“Great!” Jimbo chirped “Then what the hell do you think your doin’ walking all the way up here?! You’re lucky you didn't get lost or attacked by a bear, freeze to death, or get lost, or maybe even get kidnapped!” His uncle’s southern drawl becoming thicker as the anger shown in his voice, but Jimbo looked ready to hyperventilate the longer he listed off possibilities, even Ned seemed concerned when Jimbo's breaths did not even out. Luckily, Jimbo wasn't an angry man, his anger was more steam blowing from his ears than anything. He would snap at something, and go right back to normal after taking a proper breath.

Stan didn't look at Jimbo, he buried himself deeper into the handmade quilts and when Stan didn't respond, the larger man rubbed his face. “Jesus Stan, do your parents even know you're here?”

Stan once again refused to meet his uncle's eyes, maybe coming up here was a bad idea. He gave a pathetic shrug.

Jimbo clawed at what was left of his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. He had been ready for a scolding, to be cursed at like his dad would have done or screamed at and smacked by his mother. But Jimbo's demeanor changed, and he laughed. It might have been dry and relieved, but it was something Stan never expected. “Thank god you're ok.” leaning back in the old arm chair, he rubbed his face again. “You little shit, you're gonna give me a heart attack.” 

“Mn- you hiked all the way here?”

Stan cocked his head, and made a face “Yeah..?”

Ned was expressionless as always, yet seemed impressed with his answer. His attention was soon turned to the missing limb, without a proper shirt, Stan got a good look at Ned's arm. Before, Ned's shirt was tied off where he was missing his arm. But dressed in a red robe and boxers, Stan saw the scar tissued that blossomed from the stub, up his shoulder and partly across his chest. He was missing his signature shades too, he couldn't believe it was the first time he had ever seen Ned's eyes. They were tired, yet attentive. A nice shade of greyish blue. The small voice box held in his only arm, came to press against his throat again.

“Mnn- impressive.”

Now he and Ned never really spoke to one another, how could they? But this was something that felt easy, something he almost felt cheated out of.

“Stanley you gotta let your folks know where you’re goin’, come on, I'll drive you home just lemme grab my jacket-”

“No!”

“It ain't a choice kiddo, they might think you ran away or something. Wait you didn't run away did you??!”

Stan shook his head, afraid when he saw Ned reaching for a land line “No! I didn't run away, I just pretended to be sick so I wouldn't have to go to school. Just wait a second OK? And when I'm done i'll call them myself.”

Jimbo and Ned looked at one another, unsure. Jimbo had seated himself in the only recliner and Ned stood nearby. Jimbo for some reason seemed to be the one pleading to be told no.

“Mmn- he came all the way out here.”

“God damnit.” He pouted “Stanley why the hell did you come up here? You know your parents are gonna have a cow.”

Stan clutched the mug in his hands, it gave him something to do while he spoke “I really wanted to see you guys.” he muttered awkwardly, “I needed to say I'm sorry.”

Jimbo blinked owlishly at him, even Ned looked confused by the apology. “Whatever it is Stan, i'm sure I already forgave you. I can't hold a grudge to save my life.”

“No I mean- I didn't mean to be mean years ago.” Stanley refused to look in the other man's direction. It might have only been a few years ago but the guilt still ate at his insides. Especially he might be one of the reasons Uncle Jimbo hardly came to celebrate the holidays. His uncle looked confused about what exactly he was talking about, so he continued.

“I didn't mean to hate your gifts, I just- I don't know.” he squirmed in his seat, knowing both pairs of eyes were on him. “I didn't mean to call you weird, I swear I didn't mean it. Everyone's weird, and you're not even weird your just different. But grandpa, grandpa said so many horrible things about you-” he caught himself from repeating them, forcing himself to move on. “As soon as you guys left he went on and on and on about you and I didn't understand what he was saying but I do now and oh god!” he felt like Tweek, freaking out for a second as another wave of guilt hit him.

“As soon as it happened I hated myself! I don't want to grow up like my grandpa. I don't want to hate my family just because they’re different.” he looked to the two men desperately. When silence fell between the three, he rushed into it again.

“Craig and Tweek are different! They hold hands and they sit to close to each other during lunch and they sneak hugs between classes but I don't hate them! They’re my friends.” he almost sounded pleading, for what he wasn't sure. “Just because they like each other doesn't mean I stopped being friends with them.”

“Stan-”

“No! I don't care about you guys being so close! I don't care.” he shouted, correcting his voice, and wiping his nose nonchalantly “I don't care that you guys live together, and you share a room, or that you cook together and hug longer than two guys should.”

“I heard dad saying you guys might be gay, but that didn't bother me after I found out what it meant. What bothered me was the fact that your guys were old, and that's it. Is that weird? Craig and Tweek are my age, but they’re boyfriends and that makes you guys boyfriends.”

Jimbo's tongue was dry, and suddenly it felt far to warm in the living room as Stan continued. “I just want you to know I’m sorry. Grandpa made me realize how much I don’t want to grow up and be some cranky old man who lives in the past and hates anything that isn't to his standards. Family is family. And you don't turn your back on family, no matter what.”

Jimbo quickly forgot that Stan was a 10 year old boy, talking far too mature for someone his age. 

“Well shit, Stanley.”

Stan sniffed at the thought of being an awful asshole like his grandpa years from now, finally getting the courage to look at his uncle's. 

Jimbo's eyes were glazed over, even from the distance he could tell Jimbo was deep in thought as he took in all the information. They remained silent, Ned had taken a seat on the side of recliners arm, unable to keep himself standing as Stan ranted off. He watched Jimbo swallow, and he would have tugged on his collar if he had one. Then let his eyes travel to Ned, sitting beside him on the arm chair who didn't have his glasses to hide the emotion in his eyes.

“I don't know what to say- uh.” Jimbo finally spoke up. His voice sounded weird, deeper than normal. “Marvin's what kept us away from get togethers. I don't care what he says about me but I ain't gonna sit around if he starts talkin’ shit about Ned.” he rubbed his neck, looking like a sleepy child. “Come on Ned help me out, I'm dying here!”

“Mn- I’m not good with kids.”

Casting a hand to his forehead, Jimbo spoke again, realizing he was getting no help. “Listen Stan.” he started awkwardly. “You’re a great kid, I've been around since you were in diapers. You're not like Marvin, and you ain’t gonna grow up to be like him. You really gotta hate life to end up like him.”

Jimbo plucked at a string loose on his pants as he continued “Anyway, I never hated you for calling me weird, why would I care? I could have fifty arms and I wouldn't think of myself as weird.” he tried to explain and felt like he dropped the ball on his explanation. ”As for the boyfriend thing.” Jimbo suddenly seemed flustered, his ears were turning red as he cleared his throat and Ned shrugged his shoulders. “We don't talk about it-.” he stopped himself and shook his head. “I dunno how to explain it to you Stan, Ned’s my best friend before anything.”

It was Ned's turn to cut in, “Mn- yes, gay.”

That was all he said and Jimbo raised a brow at him, not seeming to surprised as he watched Ned shrug his shoulders. “Well, there you go.”

Stan felt panic well in his chest and kicked off the blankets. “You mean you are boyfriends?”

Jimbo once again rubbed at his balding head and shrugged, much like Ned had. Neither of them thought they would have to explain it to a 10 year old. “Without another way to say it, yeah.” but he continued “But there's a reason we ain't ever out in public all over each other Stan, you gotta understand that.” Jimbo's demeanor saddened, his eyes dropped and Ned patted his shoulder to encourage him to continue “We got so many rednecks that come to the shop. If they found out about us we would probably lose all our business, maybe even the store.” it was Jimbo's turn not to look at Stan “It would ruin everything we've worked so hard to build up, you know? Some might even try to go further and destroy our property, you’ve seen Mr. Garrison get into some shit.”

Stan's eyes were wider, watching his uncle spill the beans about the real reason they aren't public about their relationship. Their entire world would fall apart in the snap of a finger. “Me and Ned have known each other for a long time. It's not hard to just be friends.” he smiled fondly then “Out here we can do whatever we want. No one's gonna know out here.” he motioned to the cabin and the acres of wooded terrain around them. “This is our property, anyone comes sneaking around, well, it's what that baby over there is for.” He motioned to a well kept shotgun, leaning just next to the front door. Ned’s head bobbed.

Stan set his mug down, playing with the edge of his blanket “They would do that, just because you like boys? Like how boys like girls?”

Jimbo gave a nervous smile, his response was swallowed and decided not to correct the boy on the different types of sexuality. Let alone the fact that Ned was indeed married once and still felt attraction towards women along with other men. So he nodded “Hey don't look so down. we've been together a long ass time, but not many people have pieced anything together.” he chuckled a little, finding himself thumbing Ned’s knee. Stan always thought Jimbo was just this idiotic man who lived in the woods and did nothing more than shoot innocent animals. It was so strange to see him relaxed, fondly reminiscing in memories past and sharing stories about himself. 

“You know, you've gotten taller since last time I saw you.”

Jimbo’s comment had him cracking a smile “Yeah, I grew two inches. the doctor says I should out grow dad when I'm 17!”

“We’re gonna have a giant in the family!”

His uncle snorted on his laughter, scratching his rather large belly “You know, I'm glad you came all the way out here Stan. Glad to see you’re a lot brighter than some of the adults in this run down town.” he snorted again when Ned grinned. “Can you do me a huge favor Stan? And just keep it a secret? Rumors are rumors but the last thing we need is a angry mob outside.”

Stan nodded firmly. “Family helps family.”

Both older men both gave a sigh of relief, and a peaceful silence washed over the three as they recovered from their little emotional roller coaster.

“So, since you guys have been together so long, does that mean your guys are gonna get married?”

Jimbo choked on his own breath and Ned's eyes widened too, making a strange noise without his voice box. “Aw well, you know, the economy and all- That ain’t something-” the one armed man smiled evilly at Jimbo’s dismay, as he struggled to speak. Ned pressed his voice box to his throat.

“Mn- where's my ring.”

“Ned-?!”

“MMNN- WHERE'S MY RING.”

“God damnit Ned! Knock it off!” Jimbo snapped, his cheeks were pink again, Stanley was sure it wasn't the heat of the fireplace.

They complimented each other so well, Jimbo was loud and annoying, but Ned seemed to be the voice of reason, silent yet strong as he stood by Jimbo’s side. They completed each other in ways Stan had only begun to understand.

His uncle ended up calling his mom who wasn't happy to say the least. The police had been called, Officer Barbrady was writing something on a small note pad when they arrived. The black haired boy worried for his punishment but nothing could quite take away the lightness of his shoulders.

As soon as Jimbo pulled up to the Marsh household, Stanley hopped out and his mother was on him in 3 seconds flat “Stanley! Oh thank goodness you're ok! We thought someone kidnapped you!”

Stan looked from over his mother's shoulder at Uncle Jimbo, still in his goofy sleep pants and the button up flannel he through on because Ned stole his jacket. He was talking to officer Barbrady, undoubtedly retelling the story, and leaving out a few details. He motioned to Ned occasionally, waiting patiently in the car.

His Uncle Jimbo was strange. He drank too much beer, he was loud and obnoxious and always took two plates of leftovers. He was fat, old and wasn’t married at his age. His only real friend was a one armed robot.

But he didn't need a girlfriend to be happy or a normal life to make him more appealing. He was happy where he was, secrets and all.

Stan still didn't understand what made a person gay, and he really didn't think he ever would. But it didn't matter. He still cared for his family and his friends the same way as before.

And nothing was ever going to change that.


End file.
